The Whips and Scorns of Time
by Auros Sopherai
Summary: The Exile meets Revan on the edge of the Sith Empire, and is surprised to find that Revan's attitude about everything quite defies her expectations
1. Currency

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****The Whips and Scorns of Time. Chapter I. Currency**

******A/N: It's been quite a long time since I last wrote for this fandom, but I've felt the draw recently to end my semi-retirement and write this short 2 or 3 part story. The second and perhaps third chapters will be coming soon. I hope you enjoy! ~Auros**

_For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,[...]_

_But that the dread of something after death,_

_The undiscover'd country from whose bourn_

_No traveller returns... _Hamlet Act III Scene I

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I pull a stylus out of my belt, and sitting down at my datapad write the following:

_I envy people who can see beauty and good every day, for that faculty perpetually evades me. Today marks one year since I left everyone to search for Revan, and I cannot help but feel that I am no closer to finding him today than I was when I left. I am now more confirmed than ever in my worry that this mission is hopeless._

I set the pad down on the seat next to me. Glancing out the cockpit window of the _Ebon Hawk _I see the approaching surface of a dark green and blue planet. I've long since left the Republic. The Outer Rim is a vast territory; I've heard it said that there are more inhabited worlds here than in the entire Republic—most of them isolated, desolate, and backwards.

At this point, I'm following whispers and blind chance to find a planet which has contact with the elusive Sith Empire. The last five planets I've visited have only brought me farther away from the major trade hyperlanes. I have every suspicion that this planet will do just the same.

I pull up planetary data from the local infonet…. "Well this is interesting," I say aloud to no one. I talk to myself when I can't stand T3's grating beeps and whistles any longer. I see that this planet is rather populous compared to others in the area, and used to be linked to the Perlemian Route before a Supernova interrupted the existing lane over 2,000 years ago.

"Guess nobody bothered to fix it," I say.

I scan for the largest city, and contact a docking facility 30 klicks from the center. I land the _Ebon Hawk _smoothly. Flying isn't nearly as hard as Atton made it out to be.

I am greeted by a blustery downpour, and an agitated Rodian as I exit the ship. "Don't you dare try to cheat me!" He shrieks. "Don't even think about it human! I got family that'll cut pretty girl head off and put on wall."

I have no cause to doubt his sincerity. I put up my hand to assure him that I'll pay and reach into a pocket of my brown cloak to grab some hard cash. Credits are as worthless out here as my reputation as a Jedi. I imagine that the locals would hardly notice if the Republic or the Jedi Order disappeared. I may get to test this theory soon.

"How much?" I ask in my best impression of the local patois.

The rodian tilts his head slightly. Then he says, "Oh! I get it. You pay 30 per night."

I may not be half the linguist that Revan is, but I'm not about to be hoodwinked into paying double what's standard for a shithole like this. I haggle him down to 20, and I'm too tired to bother to push any lower.

***

I catch a shuttle into the city center. I walk out from where the buildings glow bright and tall to where they flicker ominously. This is where the traders and pilots will be; I know from experience. It's also where every transient scum-schutta will be. _Oh joy! _I think.

"Where's the best place to get a drink?" I ask a bum, who's crouched at the opening of an alley. He's getting soaked by the omnipresent drizzle of rain, and I feel sorry for him.

"How much is that worth to ya?" He asks, turning his head up. The overcast gray skies reveal dark eyes, and a filthy face.

My sympathy fades quickly. _Everyone's just out to get their share._ "Five," I say curtly. "Take it or the next gutter-bum will."

He seizes the money quickly, and then points me to a place a few block away.

The street is lined with bars, cantinas, casinos, and sleazy looking hotels. _How many wretched hives of scum and villainy there are!_

I enter the one he told me about, and I'm not at all surprised that _he_ thought that this was the place to be. I think the name of the bar roughly translates to _the Murder Victim_, or _the Dead Man_. _So many nuances of this delightful language that I've yet to learn!_

The place looks like it's been burned down at least twice, but that could be due to the fact that the main source of light emanates from the patrons' pipes and cigs. The bar is on the far end, and it's nearly full. I spy a single seat between a collapsed bantha-of-a-man, and a black-cowled person who's crouched over a drink.

It's as good a place as any to see what I can find out. The black-hooded man is on my left; he gives a little shake as I sit down next to him. Perhaps he notices just as I do that bantha-man has passed out in a puddle of his own vomit. I decide its best to follow the man on the left's lead and keep my hood on—even this far out pretty blondes still turn heads.

"What do you take, ma'am?" the bartender asks, and I'm a little taken aback to be addressed with the honorific. Courtesy is in short supply out here.

My mind blanks, and for some reason the only thing that I can think of is Tarisian ale. _Why did I say that! I don't even like Tarisian ale._ The bartender raises an eyebrow. "That's hard to come by these days," he informs me.

_Yeah, _I think_, but the knock-offs aren't_.

"That ain't gonna come cheap."

"Just get me the local price," I say as nonchalantly as possible. I've gotta stick by my choice; to change my mind would make me look like a fool.

He comes back a moment later with a short glass of clear rust colored liquid. The whole scene brought me back to my days in exile—drowning in drinks to treat my wound. I'd learned a bit about drinks back then, enough to know that real Tarisian ale was slightly cloudy, due to enzymes left-over from the Tach gland from which it was made. There was even a helpful rhyme to remember this by: _Fear if it's clear, Gulp if there's pulp._

I take a sip. It's strong, and it burns my throat as I swallow. _At least the real thing goes down smooth_, I think. "That's gonna be 25," he growls. "You startin' a tab?"

"Are you kidding? Twenty-five for this fake slime?!" I say, raising my voice slightly mostly from anger but also from fear that I'm running low on hard cash.

"For such a little girl, you sure got some balls," he says, ready to get his money whatever it takes.

The black-hooded man to my left lifts his hand from his drink and says softly, "Don't worry about it Smasher, her drinks are on me."

He doesn't look at me right away. In fact, he does nothing to acknowledge that I'm even there. If it had been any other man who'd have paid for a drink of mine, he would have turned to me with the expectation that I would sleep with him on the spot. This man is different. There is something familiar about him, but I sense nothing out of the ordinary when I stretch out with the force.

"Thank you," I whisper to him, after taking another sip of the counterfeit liquor.

"You're eternally welcome," he says, in what was the most elegant accent I'd ever heard this language spoken. "Earlier this evening, I had the misfortune to order the same 'Tarisian ale' as you did just now… As the name suggests, Smasher has a reputation for having a short temper, and I couldn't allow a fellow connoisseur—shall we say—to feel the wrath of that brute."

"That's very considerate of you," I say, perplexed by this hooded gentlemen, who still has not deigned necessary to so much as glance at me.

"If you would not take it as too much of an intrusion, may I ask what your name is," he says. He says it like he's had these words planned out for his whole life.

"Not at all," I say dismissively. "My name is Reli—"

The man puts up his hand, index and middle fingers extended to shush me. "I thought that 'Smasher' would serve as an adequate example to you that such names don't have currency out here," he says in a startling cruel tone.

I don't know quite how to take this, in those situations I find it best to keep my words taut. "Yeah what kind of name would have _currency?_" I ask bluntly.

"_I think that General or Exile would suit you much better_," the man says in galactic basic. A chill races up my spine.

The man turns to me and I am confronted with a face that stops my heart. Adrenaline floods my veins, and I feel a barrier to my force-sensation removed. I am flooded with all of the energies of the most powerful Jedi I've ever known—Revan.

His face is covered in shadow by his overhanging cowl, but I could never forget those ice-blue eyes and the fiery stare they could produce. Everything else, dark complexion and hair seems oddly unchanged as well, as though he hasn't aged in all these years.

"Revan, I… Revan—" I am at a loss for words.

"I know, I know," he reassures me, placing a hand on mine. Leaning in to talk, he says, "Let's go somewhere more private to speak."

I get up to follow him across the room. He carries both of our drinks. On the other side of the bar there is an isolated empty booth. _Serendipitous, _I think, before wondering if Revan has had this all planned out for some time.

"You were closer than you thought," he says, as we sit down facing one another.

"To finding you?" I ask rhetorically, "Obviously."

"Yes, of course. But you were also close to finding me where you expected to find me, in the Sith Empire."

"What do you mean?"

"This planet is one of a handful in this sector with a hyperlane linked to the True Sith Empire. Given a little more time, I'm confident you would have found out about it. But that would have only been half the work, as the Sith Empire is vast and finding me in it would have been difficult, especially as I did my best to hide myself."

"You seem quite proficient at that," I say, remembering the way that I was unable to detect his presence even sitting next to him. I begin to worry, too. I run through every possible explanation that I can come up with to explain why Revan is not in the Sith Empire fighting the Sith. _I came here_ hoping _to find him fighting the Sith_, I tell myself, _but there was always the possibility that I would have to fight _him_. He could be here to kill me_. I slide my hand to my lightsaber.

"The Force grows in you like impatient sapling," Revan says sagely. A wry smile crosses his lips. "I can see a Master putting it like that. What I mean to say is that your power is only a shade of what it once was; I'm sure you would have felt through my barrier in times past."

I don't know if Revan is trying to insult or comfort me. All I manage is a weak nod, my mind all the while running through what I remember of Revan's lightsaber fighting style.

"Calm yourself _'Exile'_," he says my title with relish. "You can take your hand off your lightsaber…Do you honestly think I would have waited this long to kill you? As Dark Lord of the Sith, I learned that engaging my quarry in conversation is counterproductive. I hid myself from you because I needed to know your intentions, just as you seek to know mine.

"After all you trained under Kreia—yes, Exile I have heard much about your exploits from my limited contacts in the Republic. I needed to know _how _you had reacted to her _unique _teachings. I needed to know if you had come to fight the Sith or join them, or to do something else entirely."

_Arrogant as ever_, I think as I finish the last of my drink. "What did you find out about me?"

Revan reaches into his pocket and pulls out a silver case. He takes a cig from inside, puts it in his mouth and lights it before answering my question. "I could sense that you walk in the light, but you do not march like some pathologically obedient Jedi underling. In that way you…you remind me of who you were the last time I encountered you; there is a difference, however, but I have trouble placing it."

"Do you think I might?..." I flick my eyes at his silver case, and Revan immediate grabs it and offers me a smoke. "I started smoking during the war," I say, gazing at the loathsome stick in my fingers. "I haven't had one since I came back from exile. Just never had the time, I suppose. Almost forgot they existed."

Revan takes in a deep drag. From the light at the end of his cig, I can see that he has indeed aged. "I picked it up on campaign, as well," he says after pausing to think. "We all did. I lost the craving as well; evidently, the Council did not think it a habit that was necessary to rebuild in my broken mind.

"When my memories came back—most of them, at least—so came the smoking. Speaking of memories, I wonder if you might help me with a dark spot in mine. You see, I do remember you; I remember a lot about you, but I feel like there is something missing. When was the last time I saw you?"

I chuckle faintly. "Perhaps, when you hear this you'll understand why I am immensely skeptical of you, Revan…The last time I we saw one another was in holographic form. You ordered me to activate the Mass Shadow Generator on Malachor V. You ordered me to carry out the war's most lingering atrocity. You thought, also, that you were ordering me to my own death, but that clearly was not to be."

Revan looks shocked. His blue eyes stare into my greens, but it is clear that his gaze was elsewhere. Revan's previous arrogance, something I remembered about him since the first time I met him, is melting away. I can see it in his trembling lower lip. "I…I remember it all." His pain is palpable. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"No—Don't," I begin to stop him from apologizing, but I see the futility. "We're both sorry. We're both responsible for—it…But there's nothing we can do to change what happened there. All we can do is go forward."

Revan nods, but I think he's only barely heard me. He seems incredibly distant, as though a wave of memory has caught him and pulled him out to the sea of his troubled past. _He can wallow in his regret another time, _I think, callously. _I need to bring him back to the here and now._

"Revan," I say, "I need to know something. I need to know why you came to me, why you left the Sith Empire, and why when I feel your force energy I feel only confusion."

Chapter II—Lost Cause


	2. Lost Cause

Chapter II—Lost Cause

**A/N: First time writing a fic in the first person, so I sincerely apologize if slipped up somewhere. Thank you all the people who've been reading and enjoying this story! And a special thanks to Brad whose work and opinions I've come to appreciate greatly, and Kendoka Girl one of my oldest and certainly my surest friend on . I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please leave me a little feedback either favorable or critical. ~Auros**

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Revan has suggested we leave the _Strangled Corpse_—or so Revan tells me that is the true name of the joint. "Just because spacers waste their lives there between trips, doesn't mean we have to," Revan hints.

_He figured I'd pick the place where the pilots went, _I think. "Where are we going? Do you know someplace else nearby?"

"Force no! Not nearby, we're going to get as far from this part of town as possible—if you don't mind. I've been expecting you here for a few weeks now, so I keep an apartment in the center of town."

"Sounds fancy," I comment.

"For all the attention people give to money, I find it surprisingly easy to come by," Revan says with a smirk. "In the course of righting a few wrongs out in the Sith Empire, I found ways to amass a substantial fortune."

I'm utterly shocked to hear this from Revan. _While I'm fighting off Sith lords and he should be doing the same, instead he's off making money! _I think, recalling the constant undercurrent in Jedi teachings that wealth was a corrupting influence. I always accepted the intrinsic truth of those teachings.

We ascend to the upper levels of a glass and gold-ish metal tower. The halls are white, bare and immaculate. I find that Revan's apartment is decorated in the same starkly minimalist style. The apartment is abuzz with droids performing tasks and preparing refreshments from Revan and me. A droid takes my cloak.

"Frankly Revan," I say, fed up with hearing his little anecdotes which serve as distractions from what I've come for, "I'm surprised that you think I'd be interested in wasting my time with all of your stories. Do you expect me to be impressed that you made money with the Sith instead of fighting them? Because I'm not; no, not in the least."

Revan sighs, slumping down in his plush white couch. He seems like he's about to take a conciliatory tone with me, and then catches his words in his mouth and stops. "You think running in there, into places like Ziost, lightsabers ablaze and slicing through every Sith you see is the way to win this?" He shouts. I keep silent, waiting for him to continue. "No, Reli, I didn't think so. So if you don't have a death wish, and you're a fool if you couldn't find the means to carry that out by now, then quit comparing pit-stains after practice and trust that the military mastermind knows what he's doing."

I was sick of putting up with Revan's irascibility. "What the hell am I supposed to say to that, Revan? I don't have to put up with your bullshit anymore. I'm not your general, and you're not Supreme Commander! You always think that you can operate on the assumption that everyone is stupider than you Revan—and no doubt, you're smart—but I see through you. I know what this is, your false anger, your anecdotes, your change of venue. You're stalling for time, because there's something you don't want to tell me."

Revan chews on his thumbnail as he considers my face intensely. _Oral fixation_, I think. "You were one of my quietest generals, one of my best too, but that silence… it always bothered me. Now I know that you were thinking all that time, and I think my fear was justified." Revan takes a sip of water, draws himself upright in his seat and takes a deep breath. "First off," he says earnestly, "you're right that I didn't want to tell you something…"

_This may really take some prodding!_ I think. "What?"

"The Sith Empire is far more formidable than I would have ever thought," he says with much effort. "They control thousands of worlds and acquire more and more as time passes. But they do not go about drawing attention to themselves through conquest, but through seduction and persuasion. This is not the brash Sith Empire of the Great Hyperspace and Exar Kun Wars."

"Do they intend to invade the Republic? Is there an imminent threat?"

"I do not claim to know all of the plans of these True Sith, but I know the Republic and the Jedi are never forgotten," Revan says gravely. "Their invasion is inevitable, but it is decades maybe a century away. They are not strong enough yet to lay hold to the entire Republic, even in its weakened condition. And these Sith are patient and wise; they are steadily building their base of power."

"Why aren't you there now then? Fighting them? Don't you seek the destruction of the Sith?" I ask, fearing his reply.

Revan bows his head, running a hand through black hair now graying at the temples. "I set out to do that. I hate these Sith. When I first arrived I knew that I had lost a powerful tool with the destruction of the Star Forge… No doubt, Darth Traya guessed that my fall to the dark side was planned."

"Yes, she figured as much," I answer. "So she was right then, it was your plan all along to save the Republic by embracing the darkness."

"On a mental level yes," Revan says thoughtfully, "but deeper down, there was a draw to know the power of the dark side. In any case, I had to change my strategy. There are other ways to take down an Empire.

"I organized a team of dissidents and planned a series of attacks on the Sith economy and infrastructure. Terrorist strikes mostly. Shutting down hyperlanes, torching vital resources, bombing Sith temples and civilian structures—commercial buildings mostly. All with the goal of causing disruption in perhaps causing rebellions."

I'm torn between disgust at Revan's ruthless tactics and acceptance of their necessity. Revan must notice my revulsion for he says, "There are no innocents out there Reli. The Sith race—full-blooded and half-breeds alike—are vile monsters. And every other sentient lifeform out there is corrupted by dark side. Death is a mercy for them. You would not pity them if you knew them."

I think of the man in the alley way, of how self-serving people are even out here and in the Republic. I can conceive that what Revan says is true, but perhaps just for the sake of keep the conversation lively I say, "There's not a single exception to this? What about your team out there?"

Revan closes his eyes slowly, then turns and stares out the adjacent window into the cloudy night. "As with every rule, there are shining exceptions, but I've said much tonight. And I'm very tired. Let's get a good night's rest and I will fill your mind with what you need to know a little later."

I can see that this must be painful for Revan. My lust for knowledge has only been enflamed by what little I've heard from Revan, but out of kindness I consent to his request.

I'm led to my room by a droid. The bed is soft and warm, something I've missed while spending most nights on the _Ebon Hawk_. I fall asleep quickly and soundly.

***

I don't awake quickly. My hazy dream world begins melting slowly away, as though I'm being lifted into an alternate consciousness. It's the sound I notice first. A throbbing sound at first, then as it draws closer a screaming howl of racing engines. I'm buffeted by a smoky breeze as the craft passes. My vision comes last and I realized that I'm at a swoop race.

I thrust my fist into the air in celebration, and note that that's odd for me to do. I turn around in the din of the race, and look behind the stands in which I'm seated to see a walkway filled with a strange mix of humans, Sith and half-breeds milling about. Two women catch my attention. They are barely dressed at all. On closer examination they appear to be two of the vilest prostitutes I've ever laid eyes on. Even More disease-ridden looking that your average pro in Sith space.

It's not normal for me to notice scantily clad women either. _How did I not think of it earlier!? _I shout in my head. _This is Revan's memory! I'm in his past, recent by the looks of it, and in his body. _I figure Revan is trying to impart with my something of note in this time, so I release hold of my individuated self and dissolve into Revan's ego.

I look to my right and see an aged battle-hardened man. His name's Chert, a Mandalorian veteran of the war, and a merc before I recruited him to my cause five years ago. On my left is a much younger man, his face partially obscured by a swath of blonde hair, another partisan of mine. I know this because Revan knows this.

"Shale," I say to the blonde man, "what's our time?"

"We're go in ten," he says with verve. "Think we should get out of here Rev?"

"Not right as this is getting exciting," Chert interjects, his eyes glued to the race below. "We leave now and it'll look suspicious; wait till somebody does something to get everyone's attention, then we'll make our getaway."

Chert's got the years of experience, but Shale has the idealistic passion. I couldn't do without either of them, nor the others. _Closest thing I've had to friends since, well…_my thoughts trail off.

A swoop is approaching the viewing stands, another one close behind. The track of the first appears wobbly. I seize the moment and knock the swoop with Force energy. It careens off course into the other craft and the two erupt in a blast of smoke and fire. The crowd shoots up in excitement as they delight in the carnage.

"Now," I say to the two of them. We jump over the back of the stands, leaving three packs of heavy explosives under our seats.

The crowd below barely notices as we land amongst them. I turn and run along the planned route. _Just get out of here as quick as possible. Back to the safehouse before this thing turns really ugly._

The three of us turn down a deserted alleyway. _Everything's going to plan_. I turn back and give a rare smile to Chert and Shale. Shale grins broadly back, and Chert has a look of smug satisfaction.

Their looks turn to panic in an instant. I whip my head back around. Two Sith accompanied by a company of soliders have emerged from a corner in the alley. Red lightsabers ignite, and I know we've been caught in a trap.

I grab and ignite both of my sabers. Blue and red light splash the alleyway with a sinister glow.

I rush forward for an aggressive attack. I hold my lightsaber high, encouraging the Sith opponents to target my midsection. Blaster shots whiz past me toward my companions as they rush by to leave me to the Sith. I swing my blade to the side and decapitate one soldier.

The Sith are worthy opponents, but they fall for the ploy. As they strike towards my abdomen, I use the momentum from my run to jump off from the ground and land a kick in one Sith's face. He flies back into the alley wall.

I focus on the other attacker. He blocks my basic attacks, but his awareness of the environment is lacking, and I quickly get him into a corner. I slash down with my blade and remove his arm. The lifeless limb and his saber fall to the ground. I seize the moment and bring my blade up from his waist through his chest and out at his shoulder.

His horrified expression lasts only a few moments, and soon afterward the top part of his body slides down the angle of my cut. His severed body tumbles to the ground and I don't waste a moment mourning him. I bound across the alley the other Sith who has recovered and is battling Chert.

My ally is a skilled fighter but I know that he can't handle a fully trained Sith with their array of force powers. I decide to fight fire with fire, in this case Sith with Sith technique, and release a bolt of blue lightning from my hands.

The Sith senses my attack a moment in advance. He force pushes Chert in the other direction, and holds his blade up to stop most of my lightning attack. I look to check on Chert and see him on the ground next to Shale. He seems to be alive still, but Shale isn't moving. _Force, he's dead! I can't believe we got caught! _

I lash out with all my rage at the Sith for taking my friend. _Screw the Jedi nonsense about tranquility and harmony_, I think. _I feel pain and it is my strength!_

The black-robed Sith does not make eye contact when our blades lock. I glance into his mind and see that he has been told to expect the terrorist gang will be led by a renegade Sith rather than a lapsed Jedi.

I don't feel like surprising him, just killing him. He manages to graze the front of my leg; I feel a sting of pain, but I know this is my moment to strike…

A moment later, his steaming sickly-inbred head falls to the ground.

I turn around and look with horror at the carnage in the alley. Ten dead Sith, one dead Shale, one dying Chert.

I rush over to his side.

"Chert!" I scream. "You're gonna be ok. I'll get you back and we'll patch you up."

"Don't fool yourself," he coughs. "This is it for me. We knew the Sith we too strong, but we pushed it…It's been the fight of my life with you Revan. It's an honor to die thus. I wouldn't trade—"

His chest spasms and he gasps for breath for a moment, and then falls dead to the ground. "Goodbye friend."

I turn and run for safety.

***

I awake with a start. I examine my arms to make sure that I'm Reli. I look up and Revan is at my bed side, standing beside him is a blue-skinned servant.

"I didn't force the vision on you," Revan says. His index finger rests on his lower lip. "Your unconscious mind sought it, and I offered."

I clear my throat. "No need to apologize Revan. I think I understand now."

"Not everything," Revan says quietly, turning away from me to leave the room. "You don't know everything yet."

Revan and his servant exit, closing the door behind them. _I have no idea what to think of Revan. This isn't the general of the wars, and I highly doubt this is the person the Jedi constructed._

I look around the room, open the closet and see that Revan has laundered my Jedi robes. I shower in an adjoining bathroom, dress, and go to Revan's dining room. He's sitting and eating a hardy breakfast.

I sit down across from him, and a droid brings me plate of food. It takes Revan a moment to notice me, and in the preceding seconds I notice that he's mouthing words to himself. _He has been rehearsing_!

A forkful of food in hand I say, "What happened after that attack? Didn't you keep fighting the Sith?"

"I fought them for a while," Revan responds curtly.

"And then?" I prod.

"And then I couldn't take it any longer, and I left," Revan says, his voice even, almost rehearsed.

I am, I must admit, perplexed. I was sure that Revan had some ulterior motive for leaving, something he needed to accomplish. "The Revan I knew would not have left a battle unfinished."

Revan looks up from his food, his honor affronted. "Times change Reli," Revan says as he balls his hand into a fist. "Perhaps it's slipped past your notice, but the Republic isn't what it once was. The Republic I fought for, that I gave _everything_ for, that Republic is long gone. In fact, I'm beginning to doubt it every was the beacon of justice, peace, democracy, the light, et cetera, that we were led to believe it was.

"And what are all those things? All the bullshit we bought into because we were too stupid to question the goodness of it all! What is justice but revenge given a pretty name? I can very rarely remember an occasion when justice was served to the satisfaction of all parties; the justice I know is merely nascent resentment.

"And peace? Need I really say more? Peace is not something that one can unilaterally declare!"

_He's really going somewhere with this. _"What do you mean?" I ask, finishing my drink. I want to keep him talking, see if maybe I can straighten him out.

"It's quite simple really," Revan pontificates, arms gesticulating. "If I want peace, and you want war, whose will wins out? Yours of course, because either I engage in war or I am defeated by you. Peace is the absence of war, it is a negative; war is the positive, the real thing. Peace can't stop war, but war can stop peace.

"What else can one say about that which is worth saving in the old order of the Republic and the Jedi?"

"At least the people have a measure of freedom in the Republic?" I interject. "Surely, you must think that's better than Sith oppression?"

Revan smiles, I've probably fallen into one of his arguments. "After all these years, believe me when I say that I know the Sith and I do not like them one bit. But don't pretend that the Republic is anything better than the lesser of two evils…" Revan rises silently from the table, and walks across the dining room to a balcony which overlooks the city.

_He's always had a knack for the theatrical_, I think as I get up to follow him. As soon as I'm on the deck, Revan looks me straight in the eye. "Reli, should we, we who have given our lives, who have died and been reborn selflessly, do all that _for the lesser of two evils_?"

He continues to stare at me with piercing blue eyes. But before I can offer anything in terms of an answer, he begins again. "The Republic is the world's greatest power ploy. A great Jedi once said, _the best leader is one whose people—when his work is done, his aim fulfilled—will say: we did it ourselves._ That is the Republic, an oligarchy wrapped in the illusion of popular rule. And the freedom you speak of, that cherished freedom that the Republic so _valiantly_ defends, that's the freedom to live mediocre lives. To live selfish, pointless, money-grubbing, materialistic, soulless, cruel, vain, dull, routine, shallow lives.

"At least, the Sith appreciate and strive for excellence!" Revan declares, shaking his arms at me. "At least among the Sith, genius is nurtured and not pressed into the mold of the herd, as in the Republic!"

"That's quite a lot to soak in," I say in what's barely above a whisper. "I don't know what to say to all of it."

"I understand," he says, breathing deeply now. "It has weighed on my chest for a long time now…"

"So, I guess this means you're not fighting the Sith," I say cautiously. "And that means you've answered my question. I suppose, given that, I'd better be going."

"Please," Revan requests, "not just yet. It would be remiss of me to leave it at that, _Exile_. I don't feel I have answered everything you want to know from me… You must not forget also, that I sought you just as you sought me. Your visit must not end with my answer to your question, but rather with your answer to mine."

_Always, when you think you've reached the end with Revan, it's just the beginning. _"Alright…" I say.

"But first, I must ask I favor of you."

"Sure."

"Take me to see the _Ebon Hawk_."

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CHAPTER III-- Different Eyes

**Anyone catch the nod to Palahniuk's **_**Fight Club**_**? As for Chert and Shale, I think people named after rocks are the kind of crew Revan would choose ;)****. The italicized section about the best leader is my own paraphrase of a famous quote from Lao-Tsu's **_**Tao Te Ching**_**. I want to apologize if I pontificated through Revan. I really wanted to convey a bit of nihilism, and the first bit of a Nietzschean overcoming of it. Keep an eye out for.**


	3. Different Eyes

Author Notes: This will probably be the last thing that I post as a fanfic for this fandom or perhaps ever. But I still really wanted to wrap up this story which I started and abandoned over a year ago. Here is the ending along with an epilogue. I'm more or less happy with it, but I'd be happy to hear any criticism (positive or negative). I hope it's good, and I hope I've maintained the present tense throughout.

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* * *

Chapter III—Different Eyes

_Le seul véritable voyage, le seul bain de Jouvence, ce ne serait pas d'aller vers de nouveaux paysages, mais d'avoir d'autres yeux, de voir l'univers avec les yeux d'un autre, de cent autres, de voir les cent univers que chacun d'eux voit, que chacun d'eux est._

The only true voyage, the only fountain of Youth, would not be to visit new lands but to have other eyes, to see the universe with the eyes of another, of a hundred others, to see the hundred universes that each of them sees, that each of them is. ~Marcel Proust

"I'd expected you'd have more to say," Revan says nonchalantly. He's regained that cool detachment that had always seemed to me oddly paired with his fiery passion.

"You caught me off guard," I say, "rather I should say, 'you've been catching me off guard.'"

Revan chews the inside of his cheek, and then lights a smoke. He's sitting to my right, in his luxury speeder as we cruise towards the _Ebon Hawk_. He smiles a wry smile, a rather fake one I might add, as though he _decided_ that would be the face to make. "So what is it then? Disappointment? Outrage? Sympathy? Right now I'm leaning toward apathy?"

At once, I recall the voices on Malachor: _apathy is death_. "No, it's not apathy. Does it disturb you not to know what I feel?"

Revan snickers. "I believe it was _you_ who did not sense _me,_ when we were sitting right next to one another last night," he says as a defense.

I take the opportunity to stare Revan in the eyes. I know my position, he doesn't know his yet. "All of that aside," I say softly, "you never _knew_ me. You never figured me out like everyone else. You never captured my mind like the others…You never _had _me." I keep in mind the double meanings of 'knew' and 'had' in this context.

"No, eh?" he mutters, feigning ignorance, "You had your own reasons for going to war then, not mine?" He takes his eyes off the passing cityscape and looks at me.

"Indeed. Don't pretend that you don't know it either. I was never your pawn. I guess I was never your enemy either. We were only ever allies insomuch as our interests were in alignment. Even before the war…"

"It seems fair to say that the lack of understanding was mutual, however."

I shift in my seat, turning to look directly at Revan. "True. Two worlds apart we were… I admit it. I never got you Revan. Even now, I don't comprehend how one minute you treat me like I'm your closest confidant and the next like I'm a complete fool. The great manipulator though you were, you never seemed to make the effort to convert me…"

Revan looks uncomfortable. For a man who always planned for the unexpected, and the unexpected of the unexpected, to be caught of guard by me is telling. Smoke curls around his tense face. "No, I never did truly understand you, and there are few others about whom I can say that. Perhaps, I've been mistaken in the past about others, but with you I never knew where to begin. And I never tried either, like I was afraid of learning something if I were to learn about you."

I light a cig and lean back in my leather seat, we seem to be getting close to the where I docked the _Ebon Hawk_. "I was always hasty in my judgment of you, perhaps for the same reason. Perhaps, we were both trying to avoid facing our similarities, to avoid learning something about ourselves through another."

Revan blows smoke out of his nostrils, and smiles. "The Jedi have a strange way of opening one's mind completely to one thing and at the same time allowing it to close completely to another. They impart a profound bit of understanding, but one which is greatly circumscribed."

_Sounds like he's written this out before,_ I think. "I've always thought, and this might not make a lot of sense, that everyone's identity is simultaneous with his or her actions," I stumble through saying. "That is to say, that to know the actions of a person and the motivations for those actions you in effect know the person."

"And nothing beyond that?" Revan asks, nodding. "That would certainly make the two of us rather complex people. One of us has literally lost his mind, thought with a different one, and then tried to reconcile the two. The other has lost and regained her connection to the Force."

"Yeah, I think we're pretty tough to categorize," I add. I look at out blue-skinned driver and then out the front windshield and I notice that the environs seem familiar. Something that I'd seen on my way into town on the shuttle from my dock. "So, let's find something out about Revan… Why exactly were you searching for me?"

"Ha," he laughs unconvincingly. "I find that it's difficult to say things off the cuff, you know?"

"What do you mean exactly?"

"Let me paint you a picture. I imagine myself as a strip of sand between two vast oceans," Revan is waxing philosophical. "Each ocean is perpetually ebbing and flowing, like tides. At times I find that one ocean or the other has entirely drowned my little sandbar. At others the waves from these oceans crash into one another. And at others both oceans recede and my sandbank grows into a vast desert."

"I think I understand," I say. "The oceans are your two minds, and the sandbar is the—you. It's hard for you to speak for yourself in the moment because who you are at the moment is always in flux."

"Yes, and in a way it's true for all of us," Revan answers. "After leaving my companions to go fight the Sith, the clash between the two became more and more evident. I started a habit of rehearsing and perfecting my own words. Preparing _myself_ to answer a thousand questions, to be able to speak properly. And by properly, I mean to speak in a way that came from the sandbar—to speak for _all_ of myself.

"This is, as you might imagine a difficult and mentally taxing task." Revan is ringing his hands like we're on a first date. And I don't know why but the more nonsense he speaks the better I understand him.

"So, not all of you wanted to find me?" I ask.

But before Revan can answer, we're interrupted by the sound of his speeder landing at the dock. Gull-wing doors pop open on both sides, and we get out of the speeder.

Revan looks at his ship with what I can only describe as a horror-tinged nostalgia. Mouth slightly agape, eyes focused and hands reaching for a cig.

But before I can take in any more of him, my gaze is broken by my Rodian friend. "Taking ship? Leaving? You've gotta pay departure fee and security fee."

"Departure fee? Security fee?" I shout over the sound of Revan's speeder departing. "We never discussed any of this?"

"You forget! You owe 100 credits!" he shouts back.

Revan is several paces ahead of us now. I continue to walk forward toward my…our… the ship. I'm pretty pissed at this little green schutta's audacity. "Is this how you treat a good customer? Is this—"

I stop mid-sentence. Revan has turned his back to the ship and is now facing the Rodian and me. I remember this face of his. During the war, after we had lost a battle on nameless Outer Rim world due to one general's careless disregard of Revan's strict orders, Revan had had this expression. Eyes narrowed to triangles, nostrils flared, arms rigid at his side, brow wrinkled with rage. Right hand clasped around his lightsaber, he takes a few steps toward us, and even the bold little Rodian has the good sense to shut his mouth.

A stream of red light erupts from Revan's lightsaber and burns a little into the platform. "We're not paying a damned thing," Revan says through clenched teeth, daring the little guy to say otherwise.

I'd say the little Rodian shits his pants in that moment, but I'm not too sure about Rodian anatomy. In any case, something gets shat upon. The instinct to survive wins the day over the instinct to maximize profits and the little Rodian turns and runs in the opposite direction.

"Can I guess which ocean that was?" I ask, trying to make light of the situation. But Revan isn't interested in joking anymore.

"In fact, _Exile_, all of me did seek to find you, but there were different motivations."

"Those being?" I ask. We've arrived at the Ebon Hawk. Revan stretches out a hand to touch its scarred metal surface, as he looks the ship up and down. And in perhaps the most awkward moment in my life, he tries to open the ship's entrance ramp. But Force knows the last time that code worked. I walk up beside him and enter in the new code. We are less than a foot apart when he looks me straight in the eye, ramp descending behind us.

"Let's begin with my most obvious and pressing interest, for which you are only a conduit…" Revan recites. "How are my former companions getting along? I imagine that the Force will have brought you into contact with a few of them."

"Ah yes, well of course there are your droids," I say. But this doesn't seem to be what he was interested in. "I also met an Admiral Carth Onasi who sends you his regards. And the Mandalore on Dxun also mentioned you. Seemed to be doing rather well, last I saw them."

Revan smiles, but its not like before. This smile with a hint of yellowy-gray teeth doesn't seem to have been planned in advance. It's spontaneous and, I daresay, genuine. But that's not the heart of the matter because then Revan asks, "And any of the others? A Mission Vao?"

I shake my head

"She would have been with the Wookie, Zaalbar…"

"One Wookie was more than enough for my last adventure…"

"Not even Jolee Bindo?..."

I shake it again.

"Then perhaps, Bastila Shan?" Revan says, as we enter the _Ebon Hawk's _hold.

Revan has just made a beginner's mistake—that of trying to hide what's most important to one's heart by placing it at the end of a list. I'm not about to be fooled. "Bastila Shan," I stop myself before I say what I had planned to: "_she's waiting for you_." But it's already too late, it's as if I had just screamed "She's waiting for you!" at the top of my lungs, because Revan hears it.

"Worried that a love back home will shake my iron will to crush the Sith at all costs?" Revan asks, flippantly. "Or is it that vile prudishness that the Jedi drilled into us poking its head out?"

"Well since you've already abandoned the battle," I say, "I'd say it's probably the latter."

Revan nods his head, as he takes a seat in one of the _Ebon Hawk's_ unforgiving seats. "That's just not who I am anymore. I care about people. No, that's Jedi absolutism. I care about _some _people, and I love one as well. Can you honestly tell me in all of your travels that you haven't found the company of some people exceedingly joyful? Can you tell me that you wouldn't rather live a life with them, to experience real love, than to fight and likely _die,_ without recognition from a vain and corrupt galaxy, for a cause whose success is far from sure, out here among the Sith?"

I think for a minute, and I don't know why but I feel like oceans of emotion are welling up inside of me. I swallow with difficulty and turn to look around the ship. Memories flood over me and I feel like I've wasted these last months looking for Revan rather than spending them with my friends, with him…

I sit down in one of the bench-seats in the main hold; Revan does the same, leaving a space between us. "I can't say that," I admit. "But it's already too late for us to have a normal life like that. And to tell the truth, I don't need a normal life, just a peaceful one."

"Is that why you fought? Why you joined me during the war?"

I don't really know how to answer at this point, and I tell this to Revan.

Revan nods, "We've both become different people. But tell me this: why are you fighting now?"

"In part it seemed like the natural thing to do, to continue what I had started to do, and to finish my task." I'm trying my best not to sound like I'm choked up about this, but I'm guessing that it's far too late and Revan knows this.

"It takes more than that to fight these Sith," Revan says, and I can tell it comes from experience. "They will wear down your will to fight. Believe me, it's already happened to me. The burden that this fight places on your entire being is nearly intolerable and it makes you question why you're fighting. In fact, the other reason for which I sought you out was the hope perhaps that you might be able to offer me another reason to fight… Either that or to stop you before you throw your life away for nothing."

My jaw drops, or perhaps it's less dramatic, but in any case my mouth is gapping open and I'm shocked. But like before, the more outré the things Revan says, the more I understand and agree with them.

"Time," I say without knowing how in the Force I'm going to finish this idea. "For more time. We could fight to make time for ourselves for the galaxy."

Revan's eyebrows have contorted around his fiery eyes, begging me silently to continue.

"I mean you say that these Sith could be just a decade or so away from attacking the Republic, and regardless of its morally _decrepit _state that means both of our lives, our potential lives, and the lives of those who we care about. If we tried, we could delay the eventual day of their attack. We could buy ourselves a lifetime, and then perhaps the Republic and the Jedi would be recovered enough to fight off the attack. We could save their potential redemption."

"We could buy ourselves a lifetime," Revan repeats, quietly. He takes a bite of his nail and then looks up at me. "And then go back home, and live our lives."

"Yes," I say, becoming more convinced by my own idea. "And that's why you haven't gone back to the Republic yet…isn't it? You knew that Bastila and Carth and the others wouldn't accept 'I tried but I gave up' as an answer, that even if you went back now you couldn't have the life you want, because they would want to fight."

"It's tough being able to see the world from _everybody's_ point-of-view, isn't?" Revan says, looking me straight in the eye. An evanescent smile even drifts across his lips.

"Maybe, but there's something rewarding about it too," I add. "It's like opening the gateway to a new world. To think in the way that someone else thinks, to understand the world as they understand it as they do."

"The more and more I see yours, yes, it is refreshing and rejuvenating. There is a world to knowing you."

I smile, flattered. "That may have just been the best pick-up line I've ever heard." Revan laughs and so do I. And it's one of those really hearty laughs that doesn't come everyday, the kind you remember because as you're laughing, you an inch away from crying.

Revan stands up, after we've stopped laughing, and extends me his hand. "For time."

"For time," I say as I grip his forearm with my hand and he does the same, to make a soldier's handshake. Revan is smiling with his arms at his side in a way that reminds me of a man much younger than he is. He looks like someone who's still excited about the future of life, someone who hasn't suffered as much as he and I have.

I don't know if I look the same, but inside I'm overcome with images of a happy life. Perhaps a ranch on Dantooine, married, a few little trouble-makers running around, even teaching the next generation of Jedi. I'm excited by the hope that there might even be time just to relax and think and not to constantly worry about this or that threat to the galaxy. And all this with my friends. I think about them pursuing their passions in life as well.

"Come with me up front," Revan says as he starts down the corridor toward the cockpit. But he turns right into the computer room after taking a look at our map of the galaxy. "You weren't able to crack all of my security measures, looks like your map is incomplete."

I'm not even bothered by Revan's showmanship. He enters the required code and points for me to look at the map. He zooms in on our current planet, and I see a hyperlane which links it with several planets, the names of which I recognize. One of course stands out. "Ziost," I say. I get goose-bumps just from the act of saying it.

"Or bust."

"Query: What is the explanation for your long trips away from the…," HK-47 has wandered into the corridor, but stops in the middle of his sentence when he sees Revan. "Exclamation: Oh Master! What a great pleasure it is to see you again!"

"It's good to see you too HK," Revan says, firmly.

"Question: You wouldn't happen to be planning another campaign of terror and destruction, Master?" HK-47 asks in a way sickeningly reminiscent of both a schoolgirl and a mass-murderer.

"As it happens, HK, in fact I am."

Revan has just given him the best present ever. "Exclamation: Master, I'm delighted to offer my services in whatever capacity they are needed."

Revan deigns it necessary to give the droid a bemused smile, and says, "Prepare the ship to travel to Ziost tomorrow morning. That means supplies, provisions, et cetera, and it might as well mean weapons also. Contact my valet, he'll provide you with the necessary money. Instruct him to bring my things as well."

"Declaration: Gladly, Master!"

Then Revan turns his back on us, and proceeds down the narrow corridor. I pause for a minute and then follow after him. By the time I reach up with him, he's walking down the ramp. "Where are you headed?" I ask.

Revan turns around. "Just going to clear my head a minute. Think about what we're going to do."

He lights a cig at the end of the ramp and then offers me one. I accept. "So, I imagine we need to have a plan…"

His black cloak gives a little flap in the wind, and he nods. We walk to the end of the platform and then sit down on the edge. A vast chasm lies before us, and beyond that the seemingly endless city skyline with the planet's setting suns in the distance. Our legs dangle precariously over the edge.

"A plan does seem in order," Revan says. He blows smoke off over the edge.

"We'll you were always more of the grand-strategy type, and you've got more experience than me too. So, any ideas?" I prod.

"One yes. And forgive me if I seem uncreative, but general terror tactics were ineffective. In an empire that is already ruled by fear, terror and fear tactics just became another tool of the Sith Emperor and those in places of power…"

"They've got an Emperor?" I interrupt, a little surprised.

"What's an empire without an emperor?"

"Makes sense, I'm just more used to the Sith always gunning for one another's throats. The idea of them so well organized is jarring."

Revan nods rather gravely. Tense lips. He takes a last drag off his cig and flicks it off toward Force knows what lies below. "We have to fight fire with fire." Revan murmurs.

"Oh no!" I shake my head. I already know where this is going. "We're not going to set ourselves up as pretend Sith Lords. I'm not stooping to that."

"Absolutely not," Revan says. "I wasn't about to suggest that we pretend to be Sith Lords."

I give a feeble _ehn? _imploring him to continue.

"We have to become real Sith Lords," he says. "Fakes won't do. We have to become the real thing."

"That's much less reassuring than it must sound to you," I quip. "And the fact of the matter is that I'm not ready to do it. Once started down the path of the dark side, it's hard to go back."

"Then the Sith have already won," he says gravely. "Don't you see Reli, this is the only way. Did you think that we could just plunge into the heart of the Sith Empire and deal it a death blow? Or better yet, start teaching the serenity and peace of the Jedi?"

I look down at my lightsaber. I remember all of the years in which it has shined a silvery-blue. I'm the incorruptible; I'm the one who never fell. "It can't be."

"If only it were otherwise," Revan says, fondling something in his cloak pocket. "Yet it remains true, as it has always been, that the dark side is far more seductive than the light. The Jedi must always be on guard to resist its appeal; one needn't look any farther than the emphasis the Jedi place on avoiding the dark side to understand this. But for the Sith there is no analogous problem. In moments of great anxiety there is no deep instinct to resist one's emotions, to strive for harmony and peace.

"The dark path has always been the easy way, while the light only appeals to those who feel strongly the pangs of conscience. Choosing the light is infinitely hard in the midst of the Sith, where the dark side corrupts everything."

"And people opt for the path of least resistance," I finish Revan's thought. I don't think I've just agreed with him, but I might have.

"This will hold true in our case as well," Revan says, pulling something out of his pocket. "Only that we have no choice but to take that path if we wish to succeed." He shows me what's in his hand. It's a small jagged red crystal.

I reach out, but I hesitate in the moment before touching it. _There's gotta be another way. But I know there isn't…_ "The path to hell…"I say as I take the crystal out of Revan's hand.

"…Is paved by those who were too cowardly and weak to do what they had to," he finishes my aphorism with a twist.

I've done many things in my life that I've later regretted, and in this moment I'm convinced this is going to be one of them. And as much as I know that the dark side is an unknown variable, that it could consume everything that I am, that it could make my renounce everything I am fighting for, repudiate everyone I care about, I also know that Revan is correct about this being the only way. I unscrew my lightsaber and look at the delicate crystal within. Soft cold waves of Force energy lap against my fingers as I reach to pull it out. The red crystal in the other hand feels like its weakly electrified and leaves my hand feeling tingly when I put it in my lightsaber.

"What do we have to do to stop these Sith?" I ask.

"Like you said before, it's jarring to think of the Sith as organized and single-minded as these are," Revan begins. "This state of affairs is largely the result of a few ruthless and calculating emperors who managed to repress the tendency of Sith to betray one another violently to a surprising degree."

"Sith working together in harmony," I muse, "it sounds like a contradiction in terms."

"It's far from harmony. They're still at one another's throats and ready to betray one another in many ways, but the individual Sith fears repercussions from his peers if he kills his master."

"And so…" I say.

"And so, our best course of action would be to bring about a revival of sorts of this lost tradition," Revan says, smiling wryly. "We'd do this by presenting ourselves as Sith from the Galactic Republic, come to restore the Sith to their true ways. With your _propensity _for inspiring followers and my strategic mind we could build up a base of support rather quickly. Meanwhile, HK-47 would reprise his assassination functions and begin eliminating key figures and sabotaging vital infrastructure."

"And then we take our followers and turn them against the rest of the Sith," I say. "And we watch as they tear one another to shreds." I've got a smile on my face now, and it feels strange. Strange that I'm taking so much enjoyment from their suffering. Strange that having accepting the dark path just a few minutes ago, I can already feel its effects.

"Precisely like that," he says, his voice monotone. "We will set them back to the petroleum age and then we'll go back."

This time I know to hide what I'm thinking. _He doesn't think he's ever going back..._

We talk for hours in the evening discussing strategy and tactics. Even though there's pain written all over his face this discussion has the effect of rejuvenating him. His eyes light up as he suggests new ideas, his voice rises and his speech quickens when he is excited by something I've said, and I can help but find this déjà vu of the war years refreshing as well. I come to relish in the though of our departure the next morning.

We retire to bed rather late, and I don't sleep. I have a lingering suspicion that Revan didn't either, but I choose not to ask him. But now I'm aware of those things, that kind of willful ignorance about him. Soon I will have no choice but to know him, to understand him, but on the cusp of this I can't push myself to fully see the world as he sees it just yet.

Early the next morning, HK returns with the necessary supplies. He brings me a set of robes—meticulously well tailored per Revan's thorough attention to detail. They're of a soft and durable fabric, of a much higher quality than I've ever owned before. The lining is made of a luxuriously silky material, which Revan informs me is strong enough to deflect an indirect blaster shot. And it's all black.


	4. Epilogues

Author notes: I was unable to decide on a single ending for this story. I also thought that I'd lampshade the importance of choice in the KOTOR games by giving it two endings. You're free to choose which one seems better or more suited for yourself. I will keep my own opinion to myself. I am merely the writer and it's the reader's decision on these things.

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Epilogue

_**Epilogue I**_

There's something terribly _dis_satisfying in knowing that you onlydid your best, that you didn't accomplish everything that you wanted to, but just what you could do. But I put the thought out of my mind.

For the time being though, it's enough. We both know that. The Sith Empire has been set ages back as a civil war rages on even as Revan and I flee back to the Republic. Our deaths have very carefully been staged. It had been my idea to involve our Sith apprentices tangentially in the plot. We had told them that about our upcoming departure and they had been offered the choice of playing along or dying. And as much as the Sith are bloodthirsty and wicked they do know how to recognize a good deal when they see one—in this case the opportunity to seize the mantle of Sith Lords without risking their lives.

We had supposedly been killed in lightsaber duels and supplanted by our apprentices who to this moment have been carrying out our unholy struggle. Revan looks preoccupied sitting next to me in the cockpit of the _Ebon Hawk_. A year has passed. I understand Revan now, as much as anyone can say they understand another person. I reach out and feel the edges of his thoughts, like a child dipping a finger into a stream to find out if the water's cold or not. The water is cold.

"Numbness, more or less," Revan says as an answer to my unasked question. "How do _you_ feel now that it's all over?"

I shrug a little; it's hard for me to pin down a single emotion in my ocean of ambivalence. "I feel like it's done, like we did what we set out to do. And now we get to go home and be proud of what we accomplished."

"Relieved, not proud," he responds sagely. "We can have what we wanted."

"We're close now," I say as I look at the datascreen, which shows us close to our intended destination: Dantooine. "Do you think they'll be there?"

We've informed our closed companions from our journeys of our returns. They've been told to meet us on Dantooine, at none other than the Jedi Enclave.

Revan cracks one of his rare genuine smiles, and I see a scar on his left cheek. "Yes, I think they will," he says, warmly. Warmly is one of those words that I have never had occasion to use in describing Revan, but at this moment, it's the only one that fits. I can't help but be filled with a bit of happiness by Revan's optimism.

Lines turn to dots, and I know we've come out of hyperspace. The _Ebon Hawk_ banks right and Dantooine, great big green ball that it is, comes into view.

In less time than it takes me to say these words we're in the atmosphere, then landing in the middle of a half-repaired Jedi Enclave. The way we land I can't see if anyone's on the ground to greet us. But I imagine that we'll have some kind of welcome given the improved state of the complex.

Revan says, "It's time," and I take his hand. We walk to the exit ramp.

I hunch over as we descend the ramp and I see feet. When we reach the bottom we find the most heterogeneously beautiful group of people I've ever seen. And though they may hate one another they've come for us, come for me.

I tear up a little as some of them rush to embrace us. I have time to see Revan take Bastila in his arms just before Atton squeezes me in the tightest embrace I've ever felt. I can't hold back tears now, and neither can Revan. I'm so overwhelmed that I can't even think of the words to answer all of the questions posed me by my friends. I'm so happy.

_**Epilogue II**_

I block several blaster bolts with me lightsaber in quick succession. Running up the ramp, I order T3 to prepare the _Ebon Hawk _for immediate departure. As soon as the ramp is closed, I slump down in the cargo hold out of exhaustion. Delayed pain hits soon afterward. With a great effort I slide off my cloak. It pulls at my skin as I'm taking it off. A mixture of grime, dried blood and sweat, and Force knows what else has practically glued it to me. I've got a nasty blaster scar on my arm, T3 offers me a kolto pack to place on the injured area. It stings as I put it on. I order T3 to take us to Dantooine and execute the agreed-upon final protocols and then close my eyes and fall asleep.

I wake up and I check my datapad. I've been out for 14 hours. I can't remember how long it's been since I slept as well. I try to stand up but I get dizzy and almost fall over. Bracing myself against the wall I give it another effort. It's like the worst hangover I've ever had, but worse. I limp towards the cockpit and sink into the captain's seat once I'm there.

T3 brings be a glass over water. The little droid has gotten to know me rather well, either that or his sensors have come to the conclusion that I'm dangerously dehydrated. I drink it with relish. The feeling is superiorly good, but my mind is still too unfocused to think of an appropriate metaphor. I ask T3 to get me something to eat, he beeps in affirmation and I'm left alone.

My thoughts drift to a place that I've so far been able to keep faraway: Revan. By now he could be anywhere. I remember our last conversation, in a dark hallway on the Sith capital-world of Ziost, just a few days ago…

"We need to leave," I whisper. I had thought first of saying 'we've done as much as we can,' but I decide against it. I feel like that may have been my fatal mistake.

Revan takes off his characteristic mask. His face has aged a thousand years since when I fought with him during the Mandalorian Wars. I suppose that mine must be in similar condition, but I've made a habit of not looking in mirrors. He lights a cigarette and the little light from it shows yellowed but not wholly yellow eyes. Revan reaches out and strokes my blonde hair. "We're not done yet," he responds, whispering.

"We have to go," I insist. "They whole thing is coming apart. The Sith are fighting each other just like they should be…"

"I can't leave just yet, not just yet… I'm not powerful enough yet…" Revan says.

We has become I, and I know that this isn't a question of our goals anymore but Revan's corruption by the darkside. I don't know whether he's truly fallen or not, but I know this is something Revan will not compromise. I understand him like that now.

"I'm going to seize Ziost," Revan hisses. "We'll rule the whole planet."

"We're not here to rule Sith worlds, we're here to destroy them," is my scathing comeback.

"I don't need you anymore. Tell her I love her for me."

"Revan please, you…" I plead.

"Leave before I reconsider eliminating you," he snaps.

I know my cause is already lost. I turn and walk down the hallway…

And now sitting here in the _Ebon Hawk_, I'm stuck replaying it over and over again. Wondering if I'd said something different, if things could have been different. I understand Revan. I've seen through his eyes, but now it's too late, my cause is lost. Tragedies are a like that, I guess.

I take a bite out of whatever T3 has brought me as I watch the lines of stars stream by. I compose a message, to one person. The only person who wouldn't care, who wouldn't question my failure… I suppose eventually I'll tell Bastila, but I think that for the moment she deserves a bit more time to believe that her long-awaited love will return home someday.

_Atton,_

_I'm coming home. I'm done. I only want to see you. I only want you. I've done all that I could. Forgive me. I love you. Just you. I don't care how but I just need you._

_Reli_

My datapad is wet with tears when I finish writing. Despondence comes to mind. I start to daydream, and then I daynightmare… but ultimately I daydream… but I'm awoken by lines turning to points and black and white turning to a deep green planet. Dantooine.

I rush down the exit ramp once I'm there, and it's overcast on Dantooine, a light mist is falling all around. Atton takes my hand and pulls me toward him. "I'm sorry, I didn't bring him, I couldn't save him… I failed…" I sob.

He pulls me into a strong hug, and I continue to cry on his shoulder. "Shhh," he says gently. "It's okay. You did good, you did good. It's all over now."

"How could you come?" I say puzzled… I'm looking for any stupid assurance I can find.

"How couldn't I come?" He asks. "I've been waiting for you for two years. I thought about you every day…I love you. I've loved you since the moment I first saw you."

I think of Atton waiting all that time, just making a living. I look up at him. My fool's eyes have a teary mist in them. "I'll never leave you again…I love you."

I'm destroyed but I know that with Atton I can rebuild myself. I'm happy for that.


End file.
